Not With The Eyes But With The Mind
by Lady Galilea
Summary: AU: Beatrice Prior has just switched schools...again... and if starting 10th grade at a brand new place isn't complicated enough, add one very hot guy named "Four", and one mean-girl named "Jeanine Matthews". What do you get? Some serious drama brewing. (Based on the events of "Divergent") -Title from Helena's monologue in A Midsummer Night's Dream
1. New Beginnings

**So this is a fairly recent plot-bunny invasion that I've been playing with for a while. Not sure how much I'll be able to update, what with school and whatnot (ugh...) but I do have some ideas, so... I guess we'll see what happens. **

**Veronica Ross owns everything you recognize. No copyright infringement intended. **

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Chapter One: Butterflies & Beginnings

Beatrice Prior sighed. It was her first day at a new school, smack-dab in the middle of 10th grade, and while to some people, that might've seemed exciting, to Beatrice, it was exactly like every other school she'd ever been to. And, she'd been to a lot: Her dad's job, as a general manager for a bank chain needed him to move around a lot, and where he went, the family went, for better or for worse. Her last place had been the sleepy town of Hayfield, Montana, where they'd been for about two months, long enough for Beatrice to start out 10th grade at Hayfield-Warner High School. Before that had been Delano Beach, Florida, and before that… Beatrice couldn't quite remember. Was it the quiet New England town with the cat lady? Or had it been the sketchy neighborhood in Vale, where they had skied every day after school?

All the towns Beatrice had lived in over the course of her 15 years probably numbered a couple hundred, at least. She could barely remember the place she had been a year before, let alone imagine any kind of continuity. People were always shocked when she told them how much they moved around, but in truth, it wasn't all that bad. And anyway, everywhere kind of blended together. People were pretty much the same, weather they said "Y'all," or "Yo," or lived on the East Coast or the West Coast or anywhere in-between. Every school, for example, had the same cliques, the same dramas- the same people, too, really, just tweaked around a little.

Her latest school, North-Central, was no different. Already, on her short walk from the cement parking lot to the Vice Principal's office, she'd managed to spot the usual crowds, mingling in the echoing hallways before first bell. There were the cheerleaders, decked out in purple and blue plaid mini-skirts and matching knee socks, giggling and bantering happily with a bunch of muscular guys. Off in another corner, a pack of chic, sophisticated looking girls and guys wearing stark, black and white clothes, spoke to one another in low, serious tones. In yet another direction, a clump of bespectacled guys (although a few girls peeked out from their midst) argued loudly about what sounded like a scientific study, gesturing wildly, their acne-spotted faces glowing. And finally, as there always were, there were the rebels, the punks, the kids that just didn't _give_ weather they looked stupid or had dates to the dance or got an A. The kids wearing black, laughing and sharing secret smiles while they cut paths through the crowds with their studs and piercings and rings and tats glinting in the light.

"Beatrice Prior? Principal Oblivern is ready to see you."

Beatrice looked up at the mention of her name. She was seated in the small, stuffy office of the Vice Principle, picking at her nails quietly. Across the room, the secretary, whose nametag read "Miss Gigi," was smiling encouragingly at her, holding a folder neatly labeled with her name.

Beatrice got to her feet slowly, brushing wrinkled out of her light blue jeans. She was so versed in the whole switching-schools-getting-a-transcript procedure she could pretty much sign herself up for her new school. Smiling slightly, Beatrice took the folder out of Miss Gigi's hands, and led herself into the Principal's office.

"Ah, Beatrice, a nice to meet you."

Principal Oblivern was a roundish woman who looked about 50, seated in a wooden chair behind a wide oak desk. The walls of her small but neat office were hung with "motivational" posters- an eagle soaring over the words, "You too can learn to fly," was emblazoned behind Oblivern's head.

"Nice to meet you, to," replied Beatrice politely. Rule number one of being a successful transfer student was making a good impression.

"Please, sit down…" Oblivern gestured at the empty chair across from her, and shuffled some papers around on her desk. "I see you've transferred here from… Hayfield-Warner High School, in Hayfield, Montana."

"Yeah," said Beatrice, although it wasn't a question.

"And before that-" Oblivern's eyes scanned the page she was holding. "My oh my, you d_o_ move around quite a bit, don't you, Beatrice?"

"Yeah," said Beatrice once again. "My dad's work, y'know…"

Oblivern smiled and nodded, although she clearly didn't. "Well, then, let's get you settled in. Eh?"

Beatrice nodded, and leaned back in her chair. Every Principal had their own way of doing things- start out with the rules and the threats, then move on to niceties and extracurricular, or vice versa, or anything in between. Oblivern was apparently did the second way.

"On behalf of North-Central High School, we are all pleased to welcome you here. We have a wide array of clubs and electives and sports teams to interest you in, and there are many students who would be happy to give you more information. However-" Oblivern's round face took on a serious expression. " We do not tolerate any kind of bullying at this school…"

Beatrice let herself zone out. Every school was the same. Every place was the same, and most people were the same. There was nothing new to learn about North-Central, except for the names of this crop of people. She stared at the silver-and-white clock on the wall above Oblivern's left shoulder, watching as the minute had inched closer and closer to the nine.

"Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you, Beatrice." Oblivern got to her feet, as did Beatrice.

"Yeah, thank you, Principal Oblivern." Beatrice managed as sincere a smile as she could.

"Of course. Now, we have arranged for an extremely exemplary student to show you around for the however long you need it. In fact, you're next class is with her-" Oblivern handed the manila folder she was holding to Beatrice. "Here's your schedule."

Beatrice tucked it under her arm. She'd look at it later. She was a lot more curious about who the "exemplary student" was. No school had ever assigned anyone like that to her for any reason…. Maybe there was something interesting about North-Central anyway.

"Well, thank you," she said once again, as she made her way out of the office. Her mind was swirling, as she considered the possibilities of who her 'guide' could be. Even she, the most jaded of all travelers, had a spark of curiosity within her. And that spark had just been lit.

The waiting room was quieter than it had been before. Miss Gigi wasn't in- the note on her desk said she had to make a call and she'd be back in 15 minutes. Classical music floated softly out of an old radio, accentuated by the familiar rustle static. Beatrice scanned the room for her guide.

The only person in the room was a boy, slouching against his bag, his body turned away from Beatrice. Could he be her guide?

"Um, hi," she said, making her way over. Much to her surprise, her stomach was afloat with butterflies, a feeling she hadn't had in, well, years. Her voice came out higher than usual, too, much to her chagrin.

The boy turned to look at her. He had dark brown hair cropped close on the sides, but falling loosely into his face. His skin was pale, his cheekbones high, and his eyes dark blue and gleaming.

"Hey," he responded, looking at her from under inquiring eyebrows. A nose stud- a tiny diamond- winked at her from the crook of his nose.

Beatrice opened her mouth to say something, but at just that moment, Principal Oblivern called from her office, "Come in!"

The boy got to his feet, pulling his black messenger bag over his shoulder and running his fingers though his hair. For a moment, Beatrice wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through the mane of silky chocolate brown waves falling into his eyes, but she brushed the though aside, blushing. She had just met the guy. And they hadn't really met. She didn't know his name. And he didn't know hers. And her probably never would.

"Well, see ya," he said, smiling crookedly, before turning on his heel, and entering the Oblivern's office.

Beatrice watched him go with a strange ache in the base of her chest. It felt a little like longing. But Beatrice didn't have much time to contemplate the guy she might or might not have actually met. Almost as soon as the guy disappeared behind Oblivern's dark wood door, a breathless girl with wavy light brown hair pulled into a messy bun burst in, panting.

"Hi- Are you- Beatrice- Prior-" She managed between gasps.

Beatrice nodded. _So this was her guide. _

"I am so, so sorry, I was all the way on the other side of campus and I totally lost track of time, and anyway…." The girl had managed to catch her breath, and was playing with a loose strand of hair nervously. "I'm rambling. I haven't even introduced myself. I'm Susan Boyard, and I'm going to be guiding you around for however long you want some guidance." She smiled, revealing a mouth glittering with pink-rubberband-encased braces.

"Cool," Beatrice said.

There was an awkward pause.

"So, our next class is English Lit! My favorite, actually… The teacher's great! Ms. Ackerman, but be call her Ms. A. Anyway, you'll love her!"

Susan, it appeared, was like a cheerleader for everything and everyone all the time. At nearly every classroom or office they passed, Susan had some nice, peppy statement to make.

"See, this is Mrs. Gonzalez's room, here," chirped Susan as they passed yet another classroom. "She's the faculty advisor for the Purity Society! I'm the president!"

"Purity Society?" Uncomprehending, Beatrice glanced blankly at the other guide.

Susan giggled. "Y'know, saving yourself for marriage? Abstinence?"

"Oh, yeah." Beatrice resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course Susan would be the person to do that. _Of course. _Thankfully, Susan was too nice- or maybe clueless- to register Beatrice's look of, well, disdain.

"You should totally join!" Susan's face was lit up with sweet, childlike excitement. "We have cookies and sprite and we have a movie night once a month, all girl bonding, you know." Susan looked so excited about her girl-bonding and her sprite and movies that Beatrice almost wanted to appreciate it too, just to make her happy. "Almost" being the operative term.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm pretty busy know…." The lie felt obvious even to Beatrice. Busy? How could she be busy? She'd moved into town the day before. She knew no one besides her family.

Susan also realized that. She shrugged in what was a unimpressive display of fake nonchalance. "Oh yeah, of course…" She trailed off.

The two walked in silence the rest of the way to class.

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Ms. Ackerman, the English Lit teacher, was a tall, curvy woman, wearing a sky-blue silk dress, and a matching scarf woven through her curly red-blonde hair.

"Welcome, Beatrice," She said warmly, glancing down at the papers Beatrice handed her before raising her dark green eyes to meet Beatrice's. "Why don't you sit down next to Christina?" She gestured toward an empty seat at the far end of the second row of desks, next to a tall girl with long, bright blonde hair.

Beatrice nodded, and smiled weakly before edging her way between the desks to her seat. She had been the "new kid" so many times in her life, but she had never really gotten used to the sensation of being stared at as she was introduced. _At least Ms. Ackerman was nice_, Beatrice thought, murmuring apologies as she made her way to her new seat. _It could have been so much worse._

Finally, after a surprising amount of weaving between closely packed in desks a red-faced Beatrice sunk down into her seat.

She leaned over and rummaged in her backpack. Her hands closed on a partly squashed banana (_Ew!)_, a miniature cat figurine, and a handful of sticky spare change before she finally managed to locate the copy of To Kill A Mockingbird that she had needed to buy, her battered duck-tape pencil case, and the binder she had brought for her papers.

"You need some help?"

Beatrice popped up from her hunched-over stance to see her neighbor, Christina, glancing at her with a small smirk. "You look kinda ridiculous."

Beatrice felt herself flush, but she had a feeling that Christina wasn't making fun of her. Something about the other girl's sparkling gray eyes made her feel oddly comfortable. "Nah, I'm cool," she said finally, smiling.

"Okay then," Christina responded. "Just wouldn't want ya to drown in your own bag before you even really started, y'know? Would make us look bad."

"I knew you had ulterior motives," said Beatrice, surprised at how easily the banter between them was flowing.

"Beatrice, Christina, happy as I am that you two are getting along so famously, I do need to conduct my class, so if you could finish your chat after the bell, that would be much appreciated." Ms. Ackerman smiled and her voice remained warm, but Beatrice sensed that it wouldn't do to push her.

Christina evidently felt the same, because the two settled into their note-taking regimen without another word.

The class slid by, like all classes do, in a haze of dull-ness, sometimes pierced by glimmering shards of intrigue.

At some point, Ms. Ackerman called on Susan to say something, and while Beatrice wasn't paying enough attention to know exactly what it was (Something about the socioeconomic hierarchy in Maycombe?) it was apparently so brilliant that Susan was called up to the board to show off her point.

Susan got to her feet, smiling happily. Beatrice felt a twinge of pity for her, in her light pink sweater and mom-jeans, a flutter with earnest hope. Her pity was not unjustified…  
"Nice work, Stiff!" Called someone in the far back. _Stiff- because she's the head of the abstinence society? _ It didn't take a genius to figure that out.

Susan's shoulders tightened, and all though her smile faded somewhat, she didn't react. Probably because she'd heard it so many times.

Beatrice couldn't think of anything sadder than being insulted so many times that they didn't even bother you anymore.

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_As always, reviews make my day, so any feedback would be really, really appreciated._


	2. Ring

**Fast update! (for me...) W00t w00t! **

**Yeah. This is a shortie but a sweetie, if you ask me. The FourTris flower blooms... (Shoutout to kaseys328 ) )Also, it sets the stage for some developments down the line... **

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In some cruel trick of magic, or at least the human psyche, the last period of the school day was always the longest.

Beatrice bit her lip and doodled a star around the edge of her math notebook. Her Algebra teacher, a short, rather large man by the name of Mr. Quetz, was of the variety of teacher that spoke everything in a particularly abrasive monotone. At 3:00 in the afternoon, Mr. Quetz was absolutely _killing _the process of factoring monomials and polynomials in equations.

Beatrice leaned back. Her seat was towards the front, but on the side, affording her the ability to zone out, without being too obvious about it. Slouching, she began to sketch intricate 3-D hearts on the margin of her paper… Obviously the best usage of class time. _Obviously. _

Suddenly, a faint _plink! _Sounded on the floor of the classroom, just next to Beatrice's right foot.

She reached down, surreptitiously sliding her fingers along the cool ground until they brushed against something. Her fingers closed around whatever the object. It was cold, smooth, and round. Was it—yes, it was.

Beatrice unfurled her tightly shut hand. She was holding a ring.

It was silver or maybe just steel, but polished to gleam darkly. The outside was tarnished slightly, the inside not. Beatrice knew from the various Crime TV-shows she watched that that meant that the ring's owner wore it frequently. There was something written on it, etched into the very surface, but it was written in a language that Beatrice couldn't even name.

She stared at the ring for a moment more. She wasn't sure why, but something about seemed to draw her in. It was the mystery, the romance, even, of finding a ring. The undecipherable inscription and the silvery glint only added to it.

So although she felt awfully guilty about it, Beatrice slipped the ring into her pocket.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Beatrice whistled softly as she frowned at what as supposedly her locker. The slip of paper in the folder that Principal Oblivern had given her _claimed_ that the code for her lock was 7765, but despite having typed it in at least 30 times, the locker refused to open.

The hallways were clearing out. School had been over for twenty minutes, and already, the fluorescent lights and Formica tiles seemed sad and lonely without their customary companions, the students.

With a growing sense of desperate-ness, Beatrice urgently twiddled the lock. There were literally _no _people left. No one to help her. It seemed like the kind of situation that would only happen in a comic book, or a really cheesy rom-com. Because seriously, being locked out of your locker after school on your first day at a new High School? Can you say cliché any louder? Still though, the situation rankled. And cliché or no cliché, Beatrice needed what was in her locker.

"Need some help?"

Beatrice recognized the voice, and spun around. It was the boy with the dark hair and blue eyes from Oblivern's office.

"Uh, yeah. The code isn't working."

The boy laughed. "That's 'cause the codes that the office gives are always one digit off of what they should be."

"Well, they said the code was 7765-"

"-Yeah, so it's actually 6654."

"Are you sure?" Beatrice cocked her head, spectacle. It seemed highly unlikely that the school itself would make such an instrumental error with the locker codes.

"Why don't you try it, and then we'll see." The boy's eyes met Beatrice's. They weren't just blue, she realized, as a rush of something warm and bubbly coursed through her. They were like the blue part of a flame, pulsing and glowing and burning with an intensity that both enthralled Beatrice, and terrified her.

She reached over, and entered in the code that the boy had given her. Her hands shook slightly, and she hoped that the boy wouldn't notice.

Much to her relief, he didn't seem to notice, (or if he did, he made no indication of it) and much to her surprise, the locker swung open.

"Thanks," Beatrice said, flashing the boy what she hoped (prayed) was a nonchalant, quick smile.

"Anytime." The boy returned a smile of his own. "Oh, and any time now, I kinda want my ring back."

_My ring? _Beatrice froze for a second, and felt her cheeks burn tomato-bright.  
"Uh, yeah, I didn't mean to- I mean, I didn't know-" Her pathetic stuttering attempts at an explanation where cut short when the guy suddenly, mysteriously, beautifully, delicately rested his hands on her wrist.

"Hey- chill. I just want it, eventually, y'know."

Beatrice managed a nod and a weak smile. _He was touching her! HE was TOUCHING HER! _Her heartrate was fluttering hummingbird-fast, she was sure. The boy could probably feel it pulsing in her wrist, where his slim, pianist's hands lay delicately, almost hovering above her skin.

The moment might have been infinity or a second (although it leaned towards the shorter side of things) and it had the kind of blurry-edged vignette quality to it that only love secenes in old movies, like West Side Story or whatever, had.

The boy's eyes, fiery blue, burned holes in Beatrice's light hazel. His fingers sparked into her skin. In that moment, she was his and he was hers.

And then he drew back his hand, ran both through his hair, and smiled that crooked smile he had.

"I'll be outside, y'know, by the benches and stuff with a few of us later on. Come if you want." He turned and walked a few paces, but then stopped and looked back. "Preferably with my ring." He winked, and then he really was walking away, a lithe black-clad figure like so many others.

Beatrice leaned back against the cold metal of her locker. It burned against her bare arms, but she could still feel the warmth of the boy's fingers on her arm, the intensity of his sapphire gaze.

She didn't even know his name, but she had fallen head-over-heels for him.

Beatrice let that thought sink in for a few moments, but her pontification was interrupted by-

"Oh, hey, Susan," Beatrice said, channeling her giddiness into some form of enthusiasm for seeing the other girl.

"Hi," said Susan. " I just wanted to let you know, we're having an Abstinence Society meeting now, and you'd be more than welcome to join us!"

An Abstinence meeting? A room full of nerdy girls like Susan, trying too hard to even get anywhere near to where they wanted to get?

"Aw, no, I gotta get home. Y'know, unpack and all…" The lie oozed out, quicksilver quickly.

"Got it." There was a pause. Susan, blinked unsurely. Beatrice stared at her scuffed gray Chuck Taylor's. "Well, some other time, then, huh?"

"Yeah," said Beatrice, smiling like a Barbie doll: Hard, plastic, and too perfect to be genuine.

Susan nodded her head a few times, her short, wavy ponytail flapping, gave Beatrice one last puppydog smile, and then turned and strode away.

It was only watching her walk away down the hall, alone, that Beatrice realized how slumped her shoulders were, how sad she looked with her massive backpack and too-big skinny jeans and wagging ponytail.

A rush of guilt washed over her, cold and sharp. Susan was only being nice- in fact, she was a really, really, honest-to-god good person. For a moment, Beatrice debated running after her, telling her she actually didn't need to unpack that badly. But- then she'd actually have to go to the meeting. And… She felt the ghosts of the unnamed boy's hands touch lightning fast on the soft part of her inner wrist.

She had made her choice. Selfish, maybe, but it was what she wanted to do.

A few minutes later found Beatrice striding out of the school building. Her gray sweatshirt and black down-vest where on, but the chilly wind still seeped in. Her backpack was on, in all of it's-glory? Horror? Backpackiness. She felt a little like a 4th grader, but it felt good to be like a little kid, innocent and excited, for a bit.

"Yo, you made it!"

The familiar voice of the boy (in her mind, Beatrice was thinking in capitals- _The Boy.)_ carried across the parking lot. Beatrice glanced over to where it seemed to be coming from.

By her locker, the boy had said they would be by the benches, but that wasn't exactly true.

The back of the playing fields faced the parking lot, and a copse of black-clad figures sat among the crisscrossed metal structure that held up the bleachers for the football games, like a bunch of ravens or craws. It was too far away to really tell properly, but from where Beatrice was, she could see that they were all pretty high off the ground.

A strange mix of exhilaration and terror coursed through her, and she picked up her pace, striding confidently across the cracked asphalt lot.

"Hey," she said, smiling, as she reached the bleachers. Up close, she could see that the group was comprised of three girls and four boys, and they were all perched about ten feet off the ground- except for one of the girls, a red-head with a shock of white in her hair, who was hanging upside down a good five feet further up.

"Hey yourself," said one of the guys, a black kid with sharply spiked hair and gem bright eyes.

"Oh, hey, nice to see you!" The boy (_The Boy!)_ swung down from the rod he was perched on, grinning at Beatrice. "Everyone, this is-"

The question hung in the air for a moment. It was just two words, just a simple question, but it was so much more. It was a chance to reinvent herself, to be anyone she chose to be, in a world free of Susans and their conventiality.  
"I'm Tris," she said. She had no idea where she'd come up with that from, but it rung nicely. _Tris Prior, rebel._ Tris fit her better than "Beatrice," her stuffy old-lady name, especially now, with the damp wind stirring up her hopes and ambitions and dreams and laying them out on the concrete.

"I'm Four," the boy (_Boy)_ responded. "This here is Uriah-" he gestured at the guy who'd said hello to Tris before, "-Lynn-" A girl to Uriah's left, with dark hair in two high ponytails, munching nonchalantly on a muffin,"-Zeke, Uriah's brother-" he nodded at a boy who looked like a slightly taller, more muscular version of Uriah, "- Jasper-" He pointed to the guy sitting next to Zeke, who had light brown hair that fell to his shoulders, and full, dark lips.

"Wow, I can introduce myself, it's cool-" A sassy girl's voice broke in. The voice belonged to a curvy girl wearing purple Doc-Marten's along with her black attire, with curly brownish hair died blue in streaks. "I'm Olive, but that's Liv to you."

"Great to meet you all," said Tris, and she actually meant it. From Liv's boots to Uriah's smirk to Four's, well, everything, she knew that for the first time in her memory, there were actually people in her new school, not just variations on the same paper cutouts that every school was made up of.

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_Fast update! (At least for me...)Wohooo! _

_Show your love by leaving a review? Please? M'kay. _


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